


shoot your shot in the dark

by carryyourownbanner



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: High School AU, It’s Cold, M/M, give him another jacket, grantaire is an actor at a haunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 19:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21167030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryyourownbanner/pseuds/carryyourownbanner
Summary: “it’s cold. and dark. great set-up for a meet-cute-for-not-the-first-time, right?” me, delirious at 3am





	shoot your shot in the dark

It hits him as soon as he steps out of Bahorel’s car- he should’ve brought a bigger jacket.

You’d think he’d be all set by now, it’s the third week they’ve been doing this- but it’s getting colder. Besides, heavy jackets don’t suit him very well- funny he should worry about the bulkiness of his figure when it’s practically his job (he’s not paid, mind) to look like a goddamn mess. 

An aesthetically pleasing mess, Musichetta corrected him once. 

There’s nothing aesthetic about a lab coat that’s absolutely saturated in blood, nor a porch set with a plastic baby torso attached to the post and its head hanging from the sign that hangs over it all- it says Psych Ward. That’s all. Grantaire’s no professional, but-

No.

He tries not to think about the metaphorical mountain of homework waiting for him at home while he’s already suffering- papers past due sitting on his hard drive that he begged his teachers to give him a little more time for, handouts, studying for his four quizzes on Monday. It’s Friday night, anyway, so it’s not like he won’t have time- except he just might not, he adds, mentally, cursing internally as he checks himself. He has another night of this tomorrow and work on Sunday. If he still has his fingers tomorrow, he’ll count himself lucky; then again, fewer fingers would probably be pretty good for a haunt- not so good for his shift at the library, though, he supposes. There’s a fair bit of typing to be done there. 

If only he could’ve brought his computer. There’s not much else he can do to pass the time anyway.

Grantaire closes his eyes tight as Éponine spits fake blood onto his face, wrinkling his nose as it splashes onto his lips. He wipes it away with a bloody brown lab coat sleeve. Courfeyrac ruffles his already-mussed hair to further the ‘illusion’.

“Oh? I’m not even good at looking like a psycho, apparently.”

Courfeyrac pouts. “No need to be so negative. You do that on your own, every day,” he says, face changing dramatically to a wild smile. “Now you’ve gotta look clinically insane and murderous. That’s what you suck at.”

“Thanks, Satan.”

“No problem.”

Grantaire turns away from him and shudders in the darkness. He’s met with Éponine on his opposite side, anyway.

“What’s got you so excited?”

She grins. “Cosette’s coming tonight. No idea which wagon. Marius, too. Probably some other kids from the ABC Club, too, knowing Marius-“ at Grantaire’s odd look, she continues. “We we’re talking about it. He felt bad that they weren’t going, so he invited them, and... there’s that. You know, if you would just go to the meetings, we wouldn’t have this problem. We wouldn’t have a couple problems, actually.”

Grantaire huffs at the jab. He knows she knows about his... infatuation, of a kind, with Enjolras. She knows because he told her. Oh, what a glorious mistake. “Why invite them if they can just... go?”

“Do I look like I know? Probably because he wants it to be some group... thing. If anyone, I’d bet it’s either Combeferre or Feuilly- don’t look so disappointed, now. Grantaire.”

“I don’t. Why, in god’s name, do you think I want him to see me like this?”

“Thing for sadism?”

“Éponine. Be serious.”

“You’re one to talk,” she replies, and they fall silent for a beat. “If Enjolras is in the wagon-“

“I’ll know you were in on it. He likes you. If you wanted him to come, he would.”

She rolls her eyes. “‘Taire, if I really wanted you to properly meet him again, I’d just take you to one of the meetings. It’s not hard. I’d bribe you with snacks, there’s always snacks.”

“You never told me that.”

“You never asked.”

“Enjolras allows this?”

“He’d whore himself out for a box of cheezits.”

“Éponine, Christ.”

“I’m just stating facts. By the way, Fantine said the first wagon should be here... like- soon. It’s almost dark, anyway.”

“Thanks. Do I look creepy enough?”

“With or without the blood?”

“With, Éponine, with.”

“Oh! Well, in that case, definitely.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what the answer would be if I’d said without.”

“Don’t be! Maybe I was about to pay you a compliment.”

“You weren’t. I hear it coming, get ready.”

“You know me too well.”

“Shut up.”

That wagon came and went, as did another, and Éponine hypothesized- between wagons- that Cosette, Marius, and company would be on the third. Cosette and Marius were fairly punctual, though, so she also decided that the third party must’ve been a pain to get going.

“I bet it’s Enjolras.”

“Why would they invite Enjolras?”

“Because he’s a good person? And we like him? We don’t all have all-consuming crushes on him, believe it or not.”

“But still- why not Combeferre?”

“Probably busy with something for debate.”

“Jehan?”

“Too jumpy.”

“Joly? Bossuet?”

“They came last week for Chetta. Why on earth are you so concerned about it? I promise, you don’t look like shit. Beyond the... costume.”

He snarls. “I’m not worried about that. I’m just worried about-“

“Enjolras being impressed with you. We been knew, R. Look, he loves his friends, especially Marius, and he’s probably having a great time. That is... if he isn’t easily spooked.”

“That’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

“For some people. Others... really don’t like it. Azelma used to cry when she got scared like that. Awh, Grantaire, you can cuddle your boy when it’s all over. I’m sure he’ll be so appreciative of... this.” She lifts his mess of a coat by a string. “Especially if you put it over his shoulders to keep him warm.”

“Éponine, I’m begging you to shut your trash mouth.”

“You know, the no-touching rule only applies during the haunt. If you wanna find him after and make a move-“

She’s cut off by the sound of another wagon. The third one running. She yawns, jabbing Grantaire with her elbow.

“Thanks, Éponine, very cool. And we don’t even do the no-touching haunt-“

“Psychos can’t form sentences like that.”

“Watch me.”

———————

Enjolras steps gingerly into the wagon just minutes before sundown. It’s cold, even with two jackets, a shirt, and his binder, and he buries his nose in his scarf. Cosette chuckles at the sight.

“You’re so cute.”

“I’m cold.”

“It’s adorable.”

For some strange reason he’d thought that, when the wagon started moving, it’d get warmer- there’s no logic, but he’s freezing, and any change might mean heat. He can’t believe he’s snuggling Marius, but he most definitely is. He smells like... well, Marius, but he’d rather have his nose at Marius’s neck than in the freezing October night air. Cosette clings to Enjolras on his other side. He’s not complaining. It’s like having two personal space heaters, anyway.

“I’m only here because of the two of you and your girlfriend.”

“You love us.”

“Mhm. Who’s working at Éponine’s... thing?”

“The psych ward?”

Enjolras scoffs, not lifting his head. Marius pats his shoulder gingerly. “That.”

“Uh- Courfeyrac, and... Grantaire. Others, obviously, but I don’t know-“

“Grantaire?”

Cosette and Marius have locked eyes when Enjolras looks up.

“Oh, come on.”

She smiles softly. “I wonder what the first stop will be.”

Enjolras opens his mouth to protest the obvious and jarring change in subject before realizing it was done in his favor. He’s pretty quiet after that, preferring to continue to hide against Marius and grimacing when people screamed and nearly knocking the whole row down when an actor touched him on the back. Cosette thought it was hilarious.

He would have to beg to differ.

The amount he‘s looking forward to Grantaire’s bit is somewhat disconcerting. For a start, it’s Éponine he’s here to be spooked by. Not that idiot from Calc... and Advanced Chem... and Business Law... alright, Enjolras admits. He’s not dumb. He’s really smart, actually, and most of the time when he talks out of turn it’s very helpful, and maybe Enjolras doesn’t despise him as a table mate in art so much-

Fine. He’s not terrible. That doesn’t mean Enjolras... likes him. No. Perhaps. So what if he does? The image’ll be ruined by seeing him covered in blood and gore anyway. 

He looks up when Cosette pokes his shoulder thrice.

They’ve stopped in front of another set, this one a porch with bloodstained walls- there’s handprints and wild smears, not a bad set, in all. The baby head’s a... strange, but not entirely out of place, decoration. If it were brighter, perhaps he could analyze it better- specifically, the smoke pouring out from the door in blankets, and five, vaguely human-shaped forms tumbling out. He hears a distinct, Courfeyrac-sounding voice mutter “fuck” as he tumbled down the steps and hit the ground.

It was all a blur from there, Enjolras hiding his face in his hands to cover his stupid grin. He’s not having fun at a haunt. It’s ridiculous. But then-

-Cosette screams beside him.

In the same moment, Enjolras realizes why.

He can’t discern why he can tell so clearly in this light that it’s Grantaire, but no amount of acting could conceal the way he looks at him. Psychotic psychiatrists don’t look at passerby’s like that, no matter who the passerby is. That’s his R. His R, grabbing his wrist from where he’s jumping on the ground and acting, well, insane, along with Éponine and- perhaps that was Courf, perhaps it wasn’t, all he can hear is footsteps anyway. 

He lets out a less-than-eloquent screech as well at the contact, standing and snatching his arm away.

He’s not scared. There’s no lingering paranoia. It’s just a momentary thrill, and... honestly? It makes him excited. He laughs, and Grantaire laughs back, baring bloody teeth. Enjolras shivers with unease.

But he’s smiling when he sits back down and the wagon moves on. Marius nudges him playfully, and he laughs still. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

“...more than I thought I would, yes.”

“Funny how...” Cosette begins, trailing off. “Never mind, Enj, never mind.

And the wagon rolls on. 

—————

“Is that the last wagon?”

“Don’t need to sound so desperate, Grantaire.”

“If there’s a chance he’s still here- maybe he waited with Marius and Cosette-“

“They were his ride, probably,” Courfeyrac says, tossing his lab coat haphazardly to the side. “So he has to.”

“They’ll wait for me,” Éponine promises. “And I suppose I could wait up a moment longer so you can talk to your boyfriend. Bahorel can drive him home, too, if need be. Didn’t he drive you..?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Thanks, Éponine.”

“Why now?” Bahorel butts in. “I mean, you were less than charming.”

“He laughed.”

“So?”

Éponine shoots him a glare.

“He laughed. And it was- didn’t you hear it? It was beautiful. I almost forgot to laugh back.”

“And you say Marius is bad with Cosette and I?”

“Don’t even. Enjolras deserves the praise, see.”

“Rude.”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out. Anyway, I’m gonna head out- Éponine, my dear Éponine, I’ll pay you a dollar for each minute extra you stay. Just- give me time with him.”

Bahorel snorts. “How much time do you need? It’s too cold to-“

“That’s enough,” Courf says. “Go for it, dude. He’s into you.”

Éponine shoos him off onto the trail. 

—————

“Enj.”

The blonde jumps, obviously having not seen him there, and scans him up and down. Grantaire self-consciously runs a hand through his messy hair. 

“R?”

“Hi. Gotta say, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“That so? Me neither, to be fair, but I did hear you were working and... hey, Grantaire? Don’t take this the wrong way- but you look like shit.”

Grantaire chuckles, sitting down on the curb beside him and welcoming the blush on his cheeks. It’s warm. “Thanks. I do try.”

His heart flutters as Enjolras smiles at him. “I was happy to see you today. Cosette and Marius were...” he trails off, fiddling with his... mittens? Dear god. He’d imagined Enjolras in... several things, many of them cute, but never mittens. He wouldn’t have expected it to make him smile like this. “They told me. But uh- I had a good time.”

“I could tell. You were laughing.”

He blushes. “Well-“

“It was cute.”

“Oh?”

Slow it down. “I mean, we don’t usually get reactions like that.” Especially not from Mr. Serious, the untouchable Enjolras. He’d touched him, he remembers. His wrist. He looks down at it now. “Uh- is your wrist alright?” he asks dumbly, despite knowing he’d held it like it was a diamond in his hands. “I remember grabbing it.”

“Do you interview everyone you target?” Enjolras asks, but Grantaire’s nerves are immediately calmed by a smile. “No. No, my wrist is fine. Only thing that hurts is my cheeks, from laughing, and then my nose. Because- you know- the cold.”

Grantaire marvels for a minute. There’s something off- Enjolras never speaks so jerkily, it’s always methodical. 

“You’re really cold,” he states, watching Enjolras turn confused and defensive. He adds, quickly, “you’re talking... weird. And shaking. Come on.” He doesn’t know what else to do but offer his own jacket, which he’d brought with him to replace the lab coat. “You should- you should go to the car, I can tell you’re freezing-“

Enjolras accepts the article, frowning slightly. “Grantaire, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound like it. The cold’s making you talk weird, like... Enjolras, but...”

“Like an actual teenager? That’s not the cold, I promise.”

“I don’t-“

Rolling his eyes, he balls up the jacket and presses it against his lower face and neck. “‘S you.” It’s muffled.

“What-?”

Enjolras puts the jacket down, blue lips pouting. “Here,” he says, handing it back over. Grantaire stares. 

“Sorry-?”

“Grantaire, come to the meeting next Tuesday. I’ll save you a seat.”

“What?”

“I’ll look for you. I’ve been asking Courfeyrac to drag you to one for weeks. Can’t believe it took this stupid thing to finally talk to you.”

Grantaire smirks. “It’s not that bad. Hey, uh- I’ll be there. But only since you asked so nicely.”

Èponine finally appears, tailed by Courfeyrac and Bahorel. 

Enjolras seems to understand, instantaneously, that they’d waited behind so Grantaire could talk to him- and that, subsequently, their talk was coming to an end. 

He envelopes him in a hug.

“Since I’m so cold,” he whispers in his ear, smirking when he pulls away. “See you at school. Or sooner, I’m not picky.”

Grantaire stares at him, dumbfounded as Marius and Cosette greet Éponine, congratulate her, and usher her into the car along with Enjolras. It’s dark, so... maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but Grantaire was about 98% certain that Enjolras blew him a fucking kiss before getting into the car.

How could things change so quickly in just a couple hours?

Unless Grantaire hadn’t been paying attention. That was far more likely, actually.

That Tuesday, Grantaire was more than happy to be in attendance. Enjolras had, in fact, saved him a seat...

...if you count his lap as a seat, anyway.


End file.
